


Sacrifice

by thesilenceinbetween



Category: Passions
Genre: Gen, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Incest, Murder, Who Done It?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-04
Updated: 2005-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilenceinbetween/pseuds/thesilenceinbetween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After realizing that Theresa couldn't have possibly murdered Alistair, Gwen decides to play detective, unaware of the tragic truth that she's about to uncover. Written as a challenge for LJ's passionsnbc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** \- _Passions_ , its characters, and locales are all the property of James E. Reilly and NBC. I own nothing.
> 
> **Author's Note** \- This story was written as a response to a challenge at passionsnbc on LiveJournal. We were supposed to write a story where Alistair is murdered and nobody knows who the culprit is, although we were allowed to insinuate as to who the murderer is. I did a lot of insinuating. Oops.

Though it had only been three months, this pregnancy already felt so much more different than her first had. Carrying Sarah had been by no means effortless, but at least then she hadn’t been plagued by near-constant bouts of fatigue. Gwen had several theories explaining the drastic differences between her two pregnancies, all ranging from the physical difficulties of carrying such a wonderful little miracle in her damaged womb to the psychological hardships of being a single mother. 

In the end, though, Gwen didn’t care why she was so tired, as long as her beautiful little baby was born healthy and grew up happy. Still, she looked forward to the glorious day that she would be able to survive five hours without collapsing of complete exhaustion onto her pristinely made bed, and Gwen feared that, if that day did not come soon, she would become too exhausted even to wait any longer.

Eyelids drooping, Gwen gently lowered her equally exhausted fourteen month-old daughter, Ashley, into her crib beside Gwen’s bed. She softly smoothed her daughter’s soft blonde hair before succumbing to her lassitude and wearily climbing onto her bed and falling asleep atop her silk comforter as soon as her head touched the pillow.

As she slept, Gwen was transported from the waking world to the recesses of dreamland. There, she sat perched upon a blue-painted bench in the park. Vibrant flowers poked up through the lush green grass as perky birds soared through the air, singing the good news that had become impossible to ignore – spring had arrived.

Gwen beamed as she watched Sarah and Ashley frolicking about, chasing after butterflies and picking daisies to stick in their hair. She rested her head against Ethan’s shoulder, inhaling his masculine after-shave. “I wish life could always be like this,” Gwen sighed, relishing the perfection of the moment. Ethan responded by wrapping his arm around her small shoulders and resting a hand on her swollen belly.

“That would be wonderful,” Ethan said, smiling as he felt his unborn child kick. “But we both know that can’t be.”

Gwen straightened, and turned to face her husband. Confusion prevalent in her aristocratic features, she asked, “What are you talking about, Ethan? I don’t understand.”

Looking wistfully at his daughters, he replied, “You and I both know that this isn’t real, Gwen. This isn’t how things are. Things _can’t_ be this way anymore.” Cupping his wife’s face with his hand, he added, “You know that.”

Gwen shook her head, still not fully comprehending her spouse’s cryptic message. Sudden noises from behind her, in front of her – they were everywhere – drew her attention from Ethan and to her surroundings. The noises were voices – they seemed familiar, somehow. They were frantic, crying and whispering things that she could not understand.

Returning her attention to her husband, Gwen questioned, “What’s going on, Ethan? What are all of those noises? What are you talking about?”

Ethan brushed back a stray lock of his wife’s golden hair. “It’s time to let go, Gwen,” he whispered, his voice even, yet caring. “You have to let go, Gwen. Just let go.”

The voices grew louder and more frantic, and Gwen became even more frightened. “Ethan…” she begged, taking his hand into her own. “Please… ”

“It’s time, Gwen… ” Ethan responded, lifting their joined hands, “… to let go.” With that, he let go of his wife’s small, white hand, allowing it to plummet to her lap.

It was Ashley’s sharp cry that wrenched Gwen from her slumber and back to the reality of her tastefully decorated bedroom. Soaring from her bed to Ashley’s side, she scooped her young daughter into her arms and softly soothed the little girl, though she privately wanted to cry along with Ashley. She wanted so badly for those first few moments of her dream to be real. Gwen would have given anything to have Ethan standing beside her, feeling their baby kick as they watched their girls sleeping after a day of parks and museums and beaches. 

Gwen’s thoughts were abruptly jarred by a commotion of voices – some angry, some fearful, some jubilant – in the hallway, and she realized with a start that the noises hadn’t just been in her dream. Curious, she cautiously traipsed out to the hallway and around the corner where she was nearly run over by her own mother.

“Gwennie!” Rebecca cried, dusting herself off. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Looking down at Ashley, who had quickly fallen asleep in the safety of her mother’s arms, Gwen answered, “Ashley and I were taking a nap. We’re both very tired today.”

“It’s only two-thirty!” Rebecca exclaimed, aghast. “And you got up at nine after going to bed at what, eight last night?”

“I know, I know,” Gwen said, pushing her blonde hair back from her eyes. “I’m just exhausted today, that’s all.”

Rebecca gave her daughter a quizzical look. “You’re always exhausted, Gwen. You’ve been exhausted ever since Ethan died.”

Gwen bit her lip and looked down, focusing on Ashley’s angelic little face. Not only did her mother’s blunt words sting, but they also unleashed a fresh wave of guilt in Gwen for keeping her unborn baby a secret. When Gwen had discovered that she was pregnant two months earlier, she hadn’t been sure if she would be able to carry the weight of her loved ones’ need for another way to remember Ethan. This, plus the difficulties she’d experienced while pregnant with Sarah, had led her to decide to keep her baby a secret for as long as possible. She still believed this decision to be the right one, though she was often racked with guilt whenever she spoke to her unsuspecting family and friends.

Plastering a smile across her face, Gwen placated her mother’s worries. “I’m fine, Mother, I promise. It’s just hard, raising Ashley without Ethan.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “That’s what _nannies_ are for, darling,” she explained, exasperatedly throwing her hands in the air.

Ignoring her mother’s comment, Gwen asked, “Why were you looking for me, Mother? I heard a bunch of commotion earlier. It’s what woke Ashley and me up.”

Rebecca instantly perked up, a triumphant smile quickly spreading across her face. “Oh, darling, it’s so wonderful. You will never _believe_ what has happened.”

When Rebecca didn’t spill her information, Gwen impatiently asked, “What?”

“It’s Alistair,” she replied, her voice full of glee. “He’s dead.”

“What?” Gwen cried, taken aback. “Alistair’s dead? How?”

“He was stabbed to death,” Rebecca enthused, nearly bursting with excitement, “around twelve this afternoon, the police said.”

Gwen nearly made a comment about being pleased to hear of the ruthless Crane patriarch’s death when she was struck by a sudden memory from two months earlier. _“I don’t care what these new tests say”,_ Theresa had spat out, her voice laced with deadly venom, _“_ I _am Jane’s mother._ I _gave birth to her, and I_ will _fight you to the death for her.”_

“Mother!” Gwen exclaimed, panic seizing her entire body. “This is horrible! Without Alistair to keep her in check, Theresa will have reign over _both_ of our lives, and you know that the _first_ thing that she will do will be to try to take Ashley from me.” Clutching her child, she whispered, “I can’t let that happen. I can’t lose my little girl, Mother.”

Rebecca grinned. “Don’t worry, darling. Theresa can’t steal Ashley from you if she’s behind bars.” Off Gwen’s puzzled expression, Rebecca exasperatedly explained, “She confessed. Theresa _confessed_ to murdering her “dear” husband.”

“What? Why would she do that?” Gwen asked, suspicious.

“Who cares? She probably realized that she was going to get arrested anyway.” Seeing Gwen’s dubious expression, she cried, “Stop worrying! Theresa’s going to go to jail for Alistair’s murder, and with him out of the way, we can finally have her charged with Ethan’s murder, too. So just relax, Gwennie.” Patting Ashley’s soft blonde head, she said, “Theresa will never be able to steal another thing from you again.”

*

The next morning, Gwen’s thoughts wandered towards Theresa while dressing Ashley. As she lovingly picked out a hot pink dress and a pair of white shoes for her daughter to wear, Gwen couldn’t help but wonder in awe at the third miracle that she had received since Ethan’s death. After years of praying, Theresa would finally be out of her life for good. She would finally be able to rest and enjoy her time with Ashley and, one day, with her unborn baby, too.

Lifting her fully dressed child, Gwen absentmindedly stroked the back of Ashley’s head as she tried to decide what to do with her young daughter that day. Up until that point, they had only really gone out to run errands. But her dream had made her think, and Gwen had realized that she would eventually have to go to work, or else risk her trust fund running out. Going back within the next six or so months would be pointless, as she’d have to then take of time for maternity leave, so Gwen had decided to make the most of this free time by taking Ashley places instead of hiding in her room, missing Ethan.

“So, Ashley, what do you say we go out today, huh?” Gwen asked, her voice taking on a singsong quality. “We haven’t gone out in a very long time. Do you want to go to the museum? Huh, baby? Do you want to go to the aquarium, and see all of the pretty fishies?”

Ashley waved a chubby little fist and made a noise that, to Gwen’s possibly hallucinating ears, sounded an awful lot like “daddy”. Tears springing up in her eyes, Gwen whispered, “You miss your daddy, don’t you, Ashley? Mommy misses him too, honey, so, so much.” Choking up, Gwen ceased talking and instead rubbed Ashley’s back, remembering their latest trip to Ethan’s grave. They had gone yesterday, and Gwen had spent the better part of a half an hour talking to her late husband’s tombstone and wishing that Ethan were there with her and Ashley.

Gwen had actually planned on spending a longer amount of time with Ethan, but when she had arrived at the cemetery around eleven that morning, she had been shocked and disgusted to find Theresa already at her husband’s graveside. While half of her had been ready to chase her husband’s murderer away, the other, larger half had been too tired to deal with Theresa, and she’d opted instead to run some errands before returning an hour and a half later to find that Theresa was just leaving.

With a start, Gwen realized that the police were wrong – Theresa couldn’t have killed Alistair at noon if she was at the cemetery from eleven until twelve-thirty! But, she recalled, Theresa had confessed. Why would she have done that if she had clearly been at Ethan’s grave at the time of the murder? The last time she had confessed to a murder she hadn’t committed, she had been “protecting” Ethan, and he was gone now. Who could she have been protecting this time?

_“What does it matter?”_ a small voice in Gwen’s head whispered. “ _Theresa murdered Sarah and Ethan. She caused me to be barren, even though I know now that I’m not. Because of her, I lost my mind, and nearly had to spend the rest of my life as Alistair’s prisoner at the Crane compound. She might not have killed Alistair, but there are plenty of crimes that she_ is _guilty of and hasn’t had to pay for yet. She_ deserves _to rot in jail for the rest of her life.”_

Yet Gwen couldn’t help but be haunted by Ethan’s words to her in her dream. “It’s time to let go,” he had told her. Could she? Theresa had done so many horrible things to her. She knew that, as a Catholic, she should forgive Theresa, but she wasn’t sure if she could.

Looking down at Ashley, she sighed. “What should Mommy do, baby? What should she do?” Ashley just grinned and, with her tiny fingers, grabbed the golden locket that Gwen wore around her neck. Ivy had bought it for her shortly after Ethan’s death, and had given it to her complete with a picture of both Ethan and Ashley inside.

“All right, honey,” Gwen sighed, adjusting Ashley’s position on her hip. “I guess we won’t be going to the aquarium today.”

*

“What are you doing here?” Theresa sneered. “Come to gloat? Well, congratulations: you finally got your wish,” she said, gesturing to the round metal bars separating the two women.

Gwen took in her rival’s appearance. Theresa was decked out in the Harmony jail’s bright orange jumpsuit, a color that almost seemed to compliment her greasy, dark brown hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She wore no make-up, and there were dark circles underneath her eyes. Gwen found it hard to believe that the woman before her had just the day before been Mrs. Alistair Crane.

“You’re right,” Gwen said, staring the younger woman in the eye. “I’ve wanted you put away in jail ever since you murdered my daughter. However,” she said, raising her voice so as to be heard over Theresa’s protests, “I want you in jail for a crime that you actually committed.”

Theresa gave Gwen a disbelieving look and shook her head. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I saw you yesterday, Theresa,” Gwen confessed, wondering not for the first time why she was there. “When I got to Ethan’s grave around eleven yesterday morning, you were there. I didn’t feel like dealing with you, so I ran some errands and came back at twelve-thirty, and you were just leaving then. There’s no way you could have killed Alistair at noon.”

Theresa bit her lower lip and turned around, facing the other wall. “Oh yeah?” she asked, the fear in her voice nearly palpable. “How do you know I didn’t leave before twelve, kill Alistair, and then go back to Ethan’s grave?”

“I don’t,” Gwen admitted, brushing back a stray strand of silky blonde hair. “That’s why I had to come see you.”

“And what do you think now?” Theresa asked, still not facing her archenemy.

“You’re lying,” Gwen simply stated. “I can see it in your eyes. You didn’t kill Alistair. Someone else did, and you’re covering for him or her. What I want to know is why.”

“Fuck off, Gwen,” Theresa spat out, turning to face the elder woman. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it concerns me!” Gwen cried, stepping closer to Theresa’s cell. “Do you really think I want a murderer lose in Harmony, especially one that can so easily break into the house where my daughter lives?”

“Jane is _my_ daughter!” Theresa shouted, grabbing two of the bars separating her from the blonde. She pressed her face between them so that she was only inches from Gwen.

“The new round of DNA tests proved that _Ashley_ is _my_ daughter,” Gwen shot back.

“It doesn’t matter!” Theresa screamed. “ _I_ gave birth to Jane. That makes her _my_ daughter.”

“Not even close, you bitch,” Gwen growled. “Ashley is _my_ child. I love her, and I don’t want some homicidal freak walking around in her house.”

“ _You_ love her?” Theresa exclaimed, aghast. “You don’t know _how_ to love. You killed Ethan!”

“No,” Gwen said, her voice low and deadly. “ _You_ killed Ethan. _You_ put the poison in the guacamole. _You_ left it unattended so that anyone, including the son that you profess to love so much, could have mistakenly eaten it. Thank God he didn’t, but guess what? My husband did, and now he’s dead because of it. My daughter is going to grow up without her father, and it’s all your fault.” As she said these words, Gwen absentmindedly rested her hand atop her belly, as if to acknowledge the loss that her unborn baby faced, too.

“Bitch,” Theresa spat. “I love my son – I love _both_ of my children – more than you could ever _dream_ of. I would die for them.”

“Then tell me who _really_ murdered Alistair,” Gwen whispered. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Little Ethan. He just lost his father. Are you ready for him to lose his mother, too?”

Theresa laughed. It was a harsh laugh, one that sent chills down Gwen’s spine. “You don’t get it, do you, you stupid bitch?” Theresa whispered. “You’re right. I didn’t kill Alistair. But I might as well have.” Theresa pushed herself back from the bars and once more turned her back to her rival. “Now get out.”

Stunned, Gwen didn’t know what else to do but to obey.

*

“I’m so glad you decided to bring Ashley over today. We’ve missed seeing both of you,” Ivy said, happily bouncing a cheerful Ashley on her lap.

Gwen couldn’t help but feel guilty. She knew that, after Ethan’s death, she had kind of locked herself up and kept all of her loved ones away. Even once she’d discovered that Ashley was her child, things hadn’t changed – she’d just sheltered Ashley from the world, fearful it would reach out and take away the one thing that she had left.

“I know,” Gwen sighed. “I realize that now, and I’m so sorry. I want to try to make it up to both of you, though,” she said, looking up at Sam.

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly responded, patting her shoulder. “We understand that you’ve been grieving. We’re just happy that you’re both here. You look so much better, too,” Sam observed.

Gwen nodded. The fatigue had left her as well. It could have been coincidence, but she was fairly certain that it was all because of her dream. Ever since she’d had it, everything had been different. Things no longer felt quite so hopeless.

“Well, I wish that I could say that letting you two spend some quality time with Ashley was my only motive for coming over,” Gwen began, twisting her hands, “but I must confess that I was also hoping to speak with Harmony’s newly reinstated chief of police.”

Sam sat down on the couch next to Ivy, who had stopped bouncing Ashley up and down and instead eyed her daughter-in-law with a look of curiosity. “Sure,” Sam said suspiciously. “What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, Gwen said, “It’s Theresa. She didn’t kill Alistair.” Gwen launched into the explanation of how she knew this to be a fact. Once she was done, Sam leaned forward and sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face.

Ivy, however, was not quite convinced. “Who on Earth could Theresa be protecting, then?” she wondered. “I mean, we all know that the only person that Theresa cares about is herself.”

“Her family?” Gwen mused. “That’s all that I could come up with. Could she be protecting Martin, Pilar, or Paloma?”

“I doubt it,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Martin and Pilar would never let Theresa take the fall for their crime. As for Paloma, she never liked Alistair, but I can’t see her murdering him to protect Theresa. I’m not sure if they’re really _that_ close.” 

“So then, who could it be, if not one of her family members?” Ivy pondered. “The only other person I could think of would be Whitney, but she’s in the convent.”

Gwen didn’t hear this last remark; she was caught in a sudden memory. _“I would die for them,”_ Theresa had said. Was that the only thing she was willing to do?

“Gwen? Gwen?” Sam repeated, snapping his fingers in front of the young woman’s face. “Are you okay? You zoned out.”

“I’m fine,” Gwen said, trying to shake the lingering feeling of uneasiness still present in her body. “I’m fine, really.” Then, quieter: “I’m just dandy.”

*

“Aunt Gwen!” Little Ethan cried, abandoning his video games and running to greet his honorary aunt.

Gwen smiled as the boy wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a big hug. She reached down with one arm and patted him on the back, unable to hug him with Ashley in her arms. “Hello! I’ve missed you, too!”

“Play video games with me!” the boy cried, tugging on Gwen’s arm and dragging her over to the large television situated directly in front of his bed. He sat cross-legged on the floor and patted the spot next to him, signaling Gwen to sit down next to him.

Setting Ashley down beside her and giving her a tiny stuffed bear to amuse herself with, Gwen replied, “How about I just watch you, okay? I’m not very good at video games.”

Little Ethan sighed, but soon perked up. “You brought Jane with you!” he exclaimed, reaching across his once-mother’s lap to pat the baby girl on the head.

“It’s Ashley now,” Gwen said softly. “Remember?”

Little Ethan looked crestfallen. “I remember,” he said. After a moment, he added, “I wish that Ashley was still my little sister.”

“Hey,” Gwen said, nudging the boy. “Just because I’m her mommy doesn’t mean that you can’t be her big brother anymore. She doesn’t have one, and she’s going to need someone to teach her how to play video games and sports and all that good stuff.”

Little Ethan smiled. “You’ll let me do all that?” he asked, his little voice full of wonder.

“Of course!” Gwen smiled, ruffling his hair. “If I tell you something, Little Ethan, will you promise me that you’ll keep it a secret? You promise that you won’t tell _anybody_.”

Little Ethan visibly stiffened at this. “Are you okay, sweetie?” Gwen asked, rubbing the boy’s back. He jerked away from her, scrambling to stand up.

“No!” he cried, staring at her in defiance.

“No? But Little Ethan, this is a good secret, I promise!”

“I don’t like secrets!” the boy shouted, covering his ears with his hands. “I hate them!”

“Why do you hate them?” Gwen asked, standing and lifting Ashley into her arms. “Did somebody ask you to keep a secret, Little Ethan?”

“Yes,” the little boy sniffled, close to tears.

“What was the secret? Who asked you to keep it?”

“I can’t tell you!” Little Ethan wailed. “He told me not to tell!”

“He?” Gwen asked, truly puzzled. “Who is ‘he’?”

“I CAN’T TELL YOU!” Little Ethan roared. “HE MADE ME PROMISE!”

Gwen sat Ashley down in a chair and turned back to Little Ethan, grabbing his shoulders. “Sweetie, I promise, I won’t tell anybody! I want to help you! Now, who wanted you to keep a secret?”

Sniffling, Little Ethan whispered, “Grandpa Alistair. I didn’t want to, I swear! He made me promise!”

With a sudden dawning comprehension, Gwen understood. With a look of horror on her face, she asked, “Did Grandpa Alistair ever hurt you, Little Ethan?”

The child nodded. “I wanted to tell, but he made me promise not to! He made me promise!” 

Gwen pulled the little boy into the safety of her embrace and allowed him to sob freely into her shoulder. Stroking his hair, she whispered, “It’s okay, Little Ethan. Grandpa Alistair’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Gwen felt sick. She had known that Alistair was a bastard, but this? Everything that Theresa had said suddenly made sense, though - why she had confessed, why she was so willing to go to jail. It all made sense.

Gwen thought of the sacrifice that Theresa had made for her son, and the hell that would await the boy if anyone discovered the truth. Little Ethan had suffered enough. She would go to Julian, and they could get the child the help that he needed – help that _wasn’t_ the police.

Remembering the present, Gwen returned to soothing Little Ethan’s tears. “Shh… everything’s going to be all right, sweetie. I’m here, and I won’t ever let anybody hurt you again.” After a pause, Gwen added, “I promise.”


End file.
